


We'll Be Alright

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, F/M, Jughead's musings when he should really be paying attention, Older Jughead and Betty, Romance, Short & Sweet, bughead - Freeform, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: Jughead contemplates his life with Betty as he waits. The things he loves most about her, why they seem to work so well together despite their differences.





	We'll Be Alright

**Author's Note:**

> We'll Be Alright – inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song called ‘Why’. It just seemed like Bughead to me. I don’t really like this piece, but I thought I would share anyway! 
> 
> AU. Betty and Jughead are older, out of college, established couple for a while, living together.

His girl would be beautiful.

He couldn’t help but think about her while waiting, his eyes closing.

He thought about her smile, about all the different ways her lips curved up. Then the way she always pursed her lips, while deciding on her lipstick for the day. Her green eyes shining in the light of the sun, the little wrinkles at the edges from always forgetting her sunglasses. The way her hair got lighter after time in the sun, blonde locks filling in with natural summery highlights. The way her skin soaked up the sun, turning golden and soft. The way her skin flushed pink when she was embarrassed, angry, or turned on.

He thought about all the reasons they shouldn’t be together, but were.

They lived in New York, Manhattan to be precise. In a shoebox apartment, all one room with their bed up a couple stairs on a sort of loft. It was small, and they felt it. But she wanted to live close to downtown nightlife, to her job at the New York Post, to her favorite Chinese restaurant. She loved being able to sit on the fire escape at night time, watching the people and lights.

He liked the day time, walking through the city amongst the tourists. He always found someone or something new to photograph. He made a living this way, taking pictures. He was a small time artist, but his name was growing. He liked the chaos of Times Square, the Socrates sculpture park, and Brooklyn’s Botanical Gardens. He liked to photograph in alleyways, in fountains, on rooftops, in trees. Odd and weird locations, abstract and different poses. He loved taking pictures of her, too. She was beautiful from every angle, clothed or not, fresh face or made up, smiling or angry.

He loved making her angry. He didn’t really do it on purpose (ok, sometimes he did), but she was just so beautiful when her brow was furrowed and her eyes were dark, dangerous, swirling with unbridled emotion. Eventually they would start laughing, because she couldn’t stay mad at him when he brushed his fingers against her neck, apologized for being an ass. He would tickle her sides and feet until she had tears in her eyes instead.

They slept on a queen sized futon which was hardly big enough for they way they each liked to stretch out. He liked to sleep with the windows open, cool, fresh night air coming in, the street lights bathing them in orange red light. She liked to sleep with the air conditioning on full blast, blankets piled on top of her and her ocean sounds in the background.

She liked to go to bed late and sleep in. Jughead liked to wake up early and drink coffee. He liked his jeans, flannel shirts, and suspenders. She wears pencil skirts and fancy jewelry, curls her hair every day. She’s a vegetarian, and his favorite food is cheeseburgers. He likes to eat junk food and she buys vegan chips that taste like air and dirt but he eats them anyway.

He likes to drink locally brewed beers, supporting the small businesses. She drinks water or Shirley Temples. She has tons of friends, co-workers, family. He has two best friends and a sister, and that was including her.

He doesn't like to socialize, but she loves going to dinner parties and events. She’s always cold, even with the rainbow of sweaters she has. He’s always slinging his flannel shirt and jackets around her shoulders even when the ground not even cold.

She’s addicted to watching the cooking channel, even though she can't cook for shit, though not for lack of trying. He hates cooking, but they have to eat something after all.

He would never forget the conversation he had with her best friend a year into their relationship.

“I'm just worried that she's holding herself back,” the black haired girls words shouldn’t have surprised him. He remembers almost choking on the handful of peanut m&m's he had just shoved into his mouth.

“No. I think the words your looking for are: You're not good enough for her. Right?” he remembered being bitter at her for so long, seeing the judgement in her eyes as she looked over his dirty combat boots, worn leather jacket and tattoos.

“I just don't see what she sees in you.” He snorted at her, grabbing another handful of the candy he was snacking on, blue eyes glaring at the girl across from him.

“I could say the same for you.” He practically sneered.

He didn’t try to hide his feelings from the girl in question when she floated back to the table. She had kissed him on the cheek, fitting herself against his side and tucking her head under his, arms looped around one of his.

He leaned back into the seat, staring out the window. They continued on, the black haired girl pretending she hadn’t just insulted him and he pretending she wasn’t there. His girl could tell their was something going in, but kept the mood light and redirected them both.

He wondered what he did to deserve this girl. What made her stay, what made her love him?

He grew up without a family, only his sister by his side when they moved from foster home to foster home. He came from nothing, built himself up from nothing. But like hell if he wasn’t proud of himself.

She had two parents that gave her the world, a sister she was close with. She had gotten a scholarship to a school her parents could have easily paid for. He was in debt up to his eyeballs.

He wasn’t sure what it was that she saw in him. They liked different things, different people. But they fit so well together despite that. They never asked each other to change. But they adapted and they compromised.

They made each other laugh and smile. They both had issues with anxiety and it was so great when someone just _understood_ without having to explain. They both liked red velvet cake and vanilla milkshakes. They liked movies from the 80's the best, sci-fi even better.

She loved to take long bubble baths in their tiny little bathroom. He would sit on the floor and keep her company, editing photos and fetching her things she needed to work while she soaked.

Then they would lay in bed together, pressed tightly while she plays with his hair, lulling him to sleep. It's the little things. He loved her with all he had. She was his world, his everything. He wanted her to always be his girl.

The music started then, and he opened his eyes.

He thought his heart might stop beating at the sight of her.

Dress made of delicate lace, swirling and draped around her curves like a glove, the color of buttermilk. The curls in her hair spilling over her bare shoulders, brushing the golden skin, freckles peeking out. Her eyes lined in black, long lashes, pink cheeks, dark red lips. He wanted to memorize every part of her face on his day, especially the smile she was wearing.

Jughead took a breath as her hand slipped into his, their eyes hadn’t strayed from each other since she appeared. He didn’t dare look away and miss a moment of gazing at her beauty. She squeezed his hand gently, quirking her head slightly and he realized he was staring, not speaking, when he really should be. He didn’t realize the time was passing, words were being spoken, and he too had to do his part.

“I, Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, take you Elizabeth Cooper, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

He swallowed his tongue, mouth dry and hot like the desert. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

He barely heard anything that was happening, could only hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest, pulse pounding in his ears. He registered Archie nudging him in the back and he accepted the ring he was offered, turning back around. He slipped the delicate rose gold band onto her finger, sliding it up to fit against her engagement ring.

Betty did the same for him, fingers cupping his hand, pushing the ring onto his finger. The black metal band gleaming under the twinkling lights. He looked from it back up to her face. She was still smiling at him, but the corners of her eyes were wet, tears starting to leak out the edges. He swallowed thickly, his own eyes starting to burn.

“--ceiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. You may kiss the bride.”

At that he knew what he was supposed to do next and he was never more grateful.

He surged forward, cupping the sides of her neck in his hands, thumbs grazing her cheeks. He gazed from her eyes to her lips, cherry red and trembling slightly. Looking back up again, she was waiting. He closed the small distance between them, everything else fading to the background. Her left hand came up to gently brush his jaw, fingertips sliding back into his hair. Her other hand was clutching one of his suspender straps, fisting it and his shirt underneath. Their mouths moving together slowly, softly. He flicked his tongue against the seam of her lips, their tongues touching briefly.

Her mouth was warm, sweet against his. Betty was wearing that God damn maple syrup lipstick and he knew his mouth was going to be cherry red at the end of this kiss. Of course, he would let her cover his whole body with it if she wanted to. He felt a flame of heat surge up his spine at the thoughts of getting her to their honeymoon suite later. With that, and the fact that there was an audience, he pulled back from her lips.

Jughead kept himself close, could feel her parted lips still brushing just against his as he leaned back just enough to look into her eyes. Her lashes were fluttering, long, black and gently curled. He could see the tear marks just under her eyes, giving them a smoky vibe rather that the clean cut lines from before. He didn’t dare move, watching with his breath stuck in his throat as her eyes opened, green staring back at him with wide pupils. She was smiling, with her smudged lipstick and watery eyes. She was vision to behold.

_My girl._

He couldn’t help but think it, he was selfish. Years of being told he couldn’t ever have happiness like this being trampled and forgotten, her standing on top in her pale pink heels, smiling like this. He could _feel_ how much Betty loved him. He closed his eyes, letting out that breath he had been holding, tight shoulders relaxing. His thumb on the apple of her cheek, brushing against the skin softly, making sure she’s still there while his eyes are closed.

He opened them again, thanking God that this wasn’t just a teasing dream. His blonde haired goddess of a _wife_ is still here in front of him, still pressed to his chest with her heart beating against his and looking at him, loving him with every fiber of her being. Despite the odds thrown against them, they had made it work. Blue and green eyes drowning in each other, but the end was clear to them both, they could see it just fine. They would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! lilibug--xx


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